The Good Wife

Harden

That very heart in your chest, so sweetly soft
Send them in to build the mortar wall you’ll need
Send them in to flush your cheeks, stealing blush
Wipe the girlish glow from your eager pupils

Work

Him into a trance, so not to notice your pain
As he glides his way across you, on top of you
Grinning his sheepish grin, filling custom and want
Your loins to the brink of retire to accept yourself

Pick

Yourself out of bed, not three minutes out of birth
Feed their harsh mouths and get fed their depreciation
Giving your bosom to the new mouth as expected
Pick up their dishes to wash in between slave and sex deeds

Wipe

The blood trickling down your leg and out your dress
Not a tear from the eye of a hardened woman, nor man
The mouth of another borne unto him from your shaking legs
The mess of yourself from the floor and your once lovely bed

Feel

The fire in your throat down to your lurching stomach
His words slapping you twice on each side of the face
The ugliness of your face and the weight of your body
Sagging with children and work for the man who does not love

Cry

As he steals the only things you had left in your bosom
Given to his new whore, a symbol of who he can be
Into his land, watering it with the tears he hates on you
For the first time as he laughs with a cold heart in your face

Grow

Weaker as years pass without a glance in your direction
You are, after all, just a useless, ugly slave for them
Thin as your sickness eats itself and your body inside out
Without a sound to the man who shows you no emotion

Die

In your bed where your bore him sons many years ago
Where you loved him countless times with all of yourself
With him there, staring into your eyes with love for a whore
With your soul and all you’ve worked for in his grasp